


Alone Time

by imorca



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Caryl, F/M, Hand Jobs, Masturbation, Porn with Feelings, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-24 10:56:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9720602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imorca/pseuds/imorca
Summary: He had caught her staring at his lap during lunch. For as pleased as his lap had been, it was way off for her. She never let herself slip like that. Worse yet, if she was that far out of line with him, where might she go staring next, and who else's lap would be happy to see her?





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is my only Explcit story. I'm pretty sure this is not my thing. I'm pretty sure it will be my last. Written for the USS-Caryl's "First kinky/non-kinky drabble" Challenge. Prompt: "Daryl sees Carol is stressed, and catches her alone. He helps her get off - quick and dirty." Originally published on ff.net on May 5, 2014.
> 
> Disclaimer: Copyright for The Walking Dead belongs to AMC, et al. My writing belongs to me, as do errors.

He knew her rhythms now, just as he knew his own. He knew how many days she could stand to wear a shirt before she'd shuck it. He knew how long she could deal with powdered eggs before she'd skip a meal just to get away from them. He knew when she'd bleed and for how long – even which day she'd have to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from showing when the muscle cramps made it hard for her to stay upright.

When he'd taken the cell next to hers he'd learned the rhythms of her waking and sleeping – how many times she turned over before she finally got comfortable, how different it sounded when she slept on her stomach or her back, the time between when the bunk creaked from her sitting down to when her first boot hit the floor, and how much longer until the second would join it.

He was observant. More than that, he wanted to know her. Put all of it together, and it hadn't taken long for him to tell when she needed to get off.

It usually hit her worst about a week before the bleed. She'd be more tense than usual, full of excess energy and her hips would swing more, too. She'd start watching him from the corner of her eye extra careful, and much to his annoyance he wasn't the only one. The color in her cheeks would be up, and though she probably didn't realize it herself, she always seemed to let her shirts ride lower on her neckline. As if he didn't have a hard enough time keeping his eyes to himself as it was.

She was quiet about it. He doubted anyone else would ever know. But they weren't observant. And they didn't want to know her like he did.

Usually it was in her cell, late, when the community had settled and the snores of the old geezers had started to fill the air. He'd hear her breathing change, and the mattress shift. Sometimes it was over quickly, and he'd smile into the darkness at the slight mewl that escaped as she found release.

Sometimes he swore she'd wear out her hand and hyperventilate, or bruise something for as long as she went at it. But imagining her holding out that long for him as he pounded into her someday was so damn hot he'd have to rub one out after her breathing changed to sleep.

Sometimes she'd masturbate in the showers, but only if she had a night watch on the right days to ensure she'd be alone. It wasn't as easy to be part of the experience but much sweeter because he could see her. They didn't have heated water, so even in the sweltering Georgia summer her skin would raise goosebumps. Watching the water bead and slip along the planes of her stomach and the lines of her legs was as good as any porno he'd ever watched.

But it was really her tits that made it worth the risk she might catch him. She was small for most men's tastes, but for him they were just right. They'd stayed high and pert even to this point in her life, and when her nipples were peaked and she was leaned against the barrel with her hand between her legs they would catch the light from the windows.

When she rubbed up her body to twist on a nipple she'd throw her head back. Her eyes would squeeze shut tighter and she'd bite her lip. The biting would muffle the sound she made, all wanton and needy, but it always carried to him - every time. He could never keep his hands off his dick after that. The only time he jacked along with her was when her followed her to the shower. He simply couldn't hold himself back.

If he ever got the chance to fuck her, he fantasized about locking them away for days and finding every possible way to get her to make that sound.

* * *

By his reckoning she hadn't serviced herself in nearly six weeks. Once the girls had joined her in the cell she didn't have time alone, and though he'd been listening he hadn't heard her risk anything even when they were asleep. She also traded out of night watch to be available should one of the girls wake fearful.

It was beginning to take its toll on her. He had to admit it was taking a toll on him, too. She was tense, jumpy, and easily distracted from her tasks. He thought it was a good thing she hadn't been on watch rotation given the difficulty she had concentrating.

He had caught her staring at his lap during lunch. For as pleased as his lap had been, it was way off for her. She never let herself slip like that. Worse yet, if she was that far out of line with him, where might she go staring next, and who else's lap would be happy to see her?

She was also touching everyone more than usual, her hands lingering on him – and Rick, and Tyreese, and Bob, and even Hershel, and Glenn, and _Michonne_ of all people – in ways he'd never seen. The others didn't seem to notice anything out of the ordinary, but he did. These weren't touches of comfort or reassurance. These were the brushes of flirtation. These were goddamn _invitations_ to touch back.

He knew exactly where she wanted to be touched, too, and how. Something needed to be done. Carol needed some time alone.

But he knew her now. Even if he could get her the time, she wouldn't take it. She'd ignore herself because her rhythms were set into this new pattern. She'd ignore her body's signals, even though she was advertising all over, asking for an intervention. Someone was going to take it, so he decided it would be him.

When it happened, it was the confluence of opportune circumstances. Successful improvisation was the reward to the man who had mastered rhythms. To the hunter who learned the seasons, the weather, migration, land, and species habits, the improvisation was a successful kill and feeding his people.

He knew this place, its tides of activity, the predictable ebb and flow of its residents through the halls. He knew the terrain of the prison and the corners where one...or two...could remain unobserved. He shadowed her, tracking through her pattern, seeking the right moment for intervention. Privacy, enough time, sheltered but not penned in so she wouldn't feel trapped and frightened.

Then he waited. He would need to be sure it was a response to an invitation.

* * *

"Daryl? What..?"

"Shhh. Ya trust me, don'cha?"

"Ah, sure, but -"

"Ain't easy to find a moment...fer yerself lately." He moved behind her and slipped his right arm around her waist slowly. When she didn't bolt he spread his fingers along her ribs to hold her firmly. He carefully placed his left hand on her hip and slid it forward so he could apply pressure in a slow circle to the dip in her pelvic bone. He felt the heat rise at her neck and she sucked in a hard breath.

"I, ah...I'm not sure what you mean." She ended on an upward note, almost as if it was a question. She was holding herself still.

He moved his right hand higher so it rested just under her breast. He could feel the ridge of her bra as it curved around her and held her deliciously up to him. He wished this wouldn't have to be so quick. His hand was angled with the web between his thumb and index finger along the swell. One slight move and she'd be in his palm. It was so hard to wait.

"We know each other, Carol. I know this about ya, too. It's private, I guess, but...it's hard to - to hide when we're so close. And I...don't want ya to. Hide it."

She was breathing harder now, and he was starting to worry. Maybe he had fucked this up. Maybe he'd read the signs wrong. He had hoped that her need would overcome the awkwardness and allow him to skip the steps he'd never be able to accomplish to win her - that he could back into that after.

Her voice was husky when she spoke, "You, um...heard?"

"Mmhmm." He slid his left hand down from her hip to her thigh. "And more." He inched his fingers between her legs and was amazed and gratified when she opened them slightly to him.

"Oh, God." She hung her head and for the first time moved away, though it was a half-hearted attempt, barely exerting pressure against his hands.

"Shhhh. Wait!" He kept his voice low and she stilled instantly. "I know I maybe shouldn't have. But Carol, it was the sexiest fucking thing I ever saw. You with your hand a'tween your legs," and he moved to cup her through her pants, "was like seeing Aphrodite herself."

Whether it was the words or his hand, it didn't matter. She pressed into his palm and hummed. She lifted her head and leaned back into him.

"Then jus'...will ya let me care for ya? It has to be quick, but I promise I'll - "

"Yes."

That was all he needed. In a flash he'd slipped under her shirt layers to push the cup of her bra up and away so he could finally feel the flesh of her perfect tit. He couldn't help the satisfied sound in the back of his throat when her nipple contracted under his palm. With his other hand he was unsnapping her jeans and lowering the zip.

She had lifted her arms up and behind her head. She threaded one into his hair and rested the other on his shoulder. She was leaning back against him with her face turned in toward his neck. He could feel her breath against his throat where the collar of his shirt was open. What he wouldn't give for her to kiss him there. Fuck, he hoped this lead to something more later.

He gave her breast a slow squeeze and rubbed a lazy circle around her torso. It was smooth and slightly slick with a sheen of sweat. Whether it was from the heat or arousal, it transformed the action from hot to sizzling. Carol whimpered in his arms and arched against him.

"H-how is that so... I mean you haven't even..."

"I know. Jus' think..."

"Don't want to."

He chuckled low in his throat and circled her nipple with his fingers, letting the callouses sweep against her. With as sensitive as she was it wouldn't take much. He wasn't disappointed. She bit her lip and strained into his hand. He took the nipple and delicately twisted as he simultaneously pushed his other hand into her panties.

"Daryl!" She let out in a hoarse whisper. His name from her in that tone had him closing his eyes against the intensity of his reaction.

When she eased apart to allow him more room between her legs, she was liquid fire. He ran his middle finger into her slit and found her already wet and waiting. Pressing deeper he separated her inner lips and it became hard to think about anything but peeling her out of her clothes and burying his now-hard dick into her.

"Hellfire!" he hissed. "I don't know if I can keep outta your pants after this!"

She giggled, but it ended in a moan as she thrust against his hand. "Please, in me?"

Yet, he took his time, fingering her thoroughly to learn her. Her clit was hard and sensitive, but did like to hide a bit. He raised its hood and gave it a thorough hello while Carol whimpered in his arms. He circled and stroked it, again allowing the ridged callouses of his fingers to work their magic on its surface. Switching to the muscular joint of where his thumb met his wrist he applied pressure, quickly finding a rhythm she responded to. She rode his hand and breathed hard. He captured her nipple and her clit between his fingers and squeezed them simultaneously. She arched clean off his chest and pulled his hair painfully.

"Fuck!" And she was none too quiet.

"I'll have to remember that." He whispered in her ear.

"Please, Daryl. Please! In me, please?"

"Oh, yes, ma'am!" He ran the full length of her again before burying one finger in her. Carol moaned.

"More. God, _more_."

He inserted a second, and pumped once. She smiled and thrust in his hand. She was tight around his fingers, but he inserted a third and continued the rhythm. Adjusting a bit he was able to place his joint against her clit again and everything suddenly _fit_.

Carol was vibrating in his arms. She had brought the hand not in his hair to her mouth to muffle the gorgeous sounds she was making. She was hardly holding any of her own weight anymore as she writhed against his hand. He curled his finger inside her and felt the rough patch he'd hoped for. And then she was rigid, her exterior muscles strained as her interior muscles played around his hand. She breathed deep and moaned low. He twitched against her spot again and was rewarded with a shudder. Once more, and then he held her as he let her come down.

Slowly he pulled out of her and trailed his wet fingers up her abdomen. "Might need a shower tonight," he said. He hoped she could hear the smile in his voice. He carefully replaced her bra, conscious that she might me overly sensitive. Finally he closed up her jeans and settled her shirts back in place. What surprised him most was that she allowed him to do it all without protesting.

Finally she turned to him. He was worried what he might see in her eyes, or if maybe she wouldn't look at him at all.

But she was simply there with him. The teasing twinkle was in her eye as were the things he always saw behind it.

"That alright?" he asked.

"For a start."


End file.
